Delicate Temperments
by Taito-Yamachi-lvr
Summary: Nick from L4D2 and Phil from The Hangover always reminded me of each other. I wondered what would happen if they met; would they be BFFs? Would they hate each other? Here's this, which might be continued...much, much later. Also much profanity.
1. Chapter 1

When Phil heard a loud banging noise the next morning, he assumed it was some hotel employee at the door.

"I'm coming," he groaned, getting up painfully from the floor. His face hurt.

As he headed to the door, he was surprised to find dried blood crusted on his lip.

"The hell?" he muttered quietly. What the fuck happened last night? Why couldn't he remember anything?

He opened the front door. No one was there.

The banging continued. Phil realized it was actually coming from one of the closets in the room. A strange voice called out.

"Hey! You assclowns can't just leave me here!"

Phil ventured a little closer towards the closet, eyeing it warily.

"You guys'll miss me!" the unfamiliar voice warned.

Phil didn't even know who the fuck was in the closet; there was no way he would miss them. Well, one way to fix that.

"Come on, I'm trapped in a room, let me out!" it begged.

Room? It was a goddamn CLOSET.

"Hey!" Phil shouted at the locked door. "Quit bitching!"

The voice was silent for a few moments. Then:

"The fuck are you?" it demanded.

"Who the fuck are _you_?" Phil demanded right back.

"I asked first, wiseass," it snapped.

"Since _you're_ in a locked closet and _I'm_ the person who can let you out, you'd better _start_ answering questions and _stop_ being an ass," Phil informed them.

The voice was silent again, probably sulking.

"My name is Nick," it said finally, with an undertone of anger and impatience.

"Hello, _Nick_," Phil replied sarcastically. "Mind telling me how the hell you got into a locked closet?"

"I don't know," Nick replied, sounding less angry than before.

"You don't know how you got into our hotel room and locked yourself into a closet."

"No I don't, goddamnit, now who the hell _are_ you? And what's this shit about a hotel room? I already got out of the hotel. We're in the Whispering Oaks amusement park."

Phil decided Nick was on drugs. Or was schizophrenic. Or both.

"Nick, I don't know what pill you took, but I am standing in an expensive ass hotel room talking to some jackass who locked his dumb ass in a closet. So don't tell me any different."

"And _I_ don't know how many paint chips you've eaten because I was _just_ at Whispering Oaks, and no loudmouthed moron is going to jerk me around. Got it?"

"Listen, asshole—" Phil started.

"Wait, WAIT!" Nick yelled. There was a moment of silence. "Did you take my freaking axe?"

Phil blinked.

"WHAT are you _talking_ about?" Phil demanded, bewildered.

"My goddamn AXE!" Nick shouted, slamming his fist against the door. "It's gone! Did you take it!"

"Dude, I don't even know what you look like. I've never seen or met you. If you had an axe and it's gone, it's your own damn fault. I'm glad it's gone. You sound like a psycho."

"Oh ha ha, funny guy, it takes one to know one," Nick snapped. "What am I supposed to defend myself with now?"

Phil scrunched his face up in an attempt to puzzle out what the _fuck_ this guy was talking about. He didn't sound drunk. Maybe he was on E.

"Defend yourself against…_what_?" he asked finally.

"Oh, you know…bunnies."

Silence.

"Really?"

"Of course not, dumbshit! The axe was for the goddamned zombies and freaks! What the hell else would I need to defend myself against? Your stupidity?"

"Listen, crazy," Phil snarled, "I don't like your attitude OR your crazy. There aren't any zombies, and the only freak here is you!"

"Are you blind or just retarded?" Nick demanded. "Zombies are _packing_ the streets! It's like an undead pride parade out there!"

"I'm going to let you out against my better judgment, but only so you can see how wrong you are. And then I'll laugh in your face," Phil announced.

"OK, I don't care if you're blind, retarded, in denial, or all of the above. I'm going to punch you in the teeth for dicking around so long and pissing me off."

"You probably already did," Phil muttered, feeling his bloody lip.

"Just open the goddamn door already," Nick snapped. "I can't see shit in here."

Phil turned the key in the lock and swiftly pulled open the door.

The man who stepped out was older than himself by a few years and had a fist raised and ready to knock some teeth out, but the guy called Nick froze as soon as he got a good look around. Phil took in the rings on his ring and index fingers, the expensive-looking (and dirty) white suit and blue shirt, scratched face, green psycho eyes, and dark hair.

"See, dumbass, it's a hotel," Phil said. "Zombie free."

Phil watched as Nick's expression went from angry to shocked, then confused, and finally settled on terrified.

"_Where the fuck AM I?_" he whispered.

"You're in Vegas," Phil said, almost feeling bad for the guy.

"No. No, no, no, no. It can't be," Nick moaned, digging his fingers into his face. "I was—that damn amusement park—"

He spun towards Phil, who instinctively took a step back but still got grabbed.

"IS THE HOTEL ON FIRE?" he demanded, crazy-eyed.

"NO, it's NOT, get the hell _off_ me!" Phil yelled, pushing him back.

"Are you sure?" Nick asked again. He looked a little calmer/saner.

"YES, I'm sure. Jesus, what the hell are you _on_?"

Nick rushed over to one of the large windows and cupped his hands around his eyes, peering down into the street below. Phil cautiously approached and stood next to him.

"Looking for 'zombies'?" he joked.

"Yes," Nick replied seriously, not even sparing Phil a glance as he continued his sweep of the street.

Phil shifted his weight from one foot to the other and folded his arms. Maybe there was something genuinely wrong with this guy.

As he was about to ask if Nick had dementia, turrets, or both, the man slowly lowered his hands and stared straight out the window.

"No zombies," he said blankly.

"No shit," Phil replied.

Nick remained in the same pose, looking shell shocked (and dejected, but that could have been wishful thinking on Phil's part). He opened his mouth to say something then immediately closed it, swallowing hard. He frowned suddenly and turned to Phil.

"Are there any Infected in the surrounding cities?" he demanded urgently.

"What, like infected with herpes? Or are you back on zombies again?" Phil asked.

"Zombies, damnit, this is important!"

Nick was genuinely angry. Phil was startled to realize that Nick _actually_ believed there were zombies somewhere in the world. How paranoid.

"We came here from LA and didn't see any, so I'm guessing no," Phil replied. "Unless you count that one old lady behind the wheel."

Nick still looked perplexed and scared.

"What, I thought finding out there are no zombies would be a good thing, psycho!" Phil said.

"It is," Nick replied distractedly, staring off into space, "but…"

Phil watched him rub his thumb compulsively over the ring on his index finger.

"But?" Phil prompted.

Nick blinked and looked at Phil as if just noticing him for the first time.

"Where are the others?" he demanded.

Phil stared at him. "What others? You mean my friends?"

"No, _my_ friends. There were four of us," Nick explained. "Coach, me, Ellis, and—"

He stopped to swallow hard again, and Phil noticed he looked pained and worried as he named the last person.

"—and Rochelle," he finished quietly.

Phil shrugged and spread his hands. "You were the only person in that closet. I can go see if anyone else has magically spawned inside during the past ten minutes. I'm sure it's jam-packed."

"This is serious, you asshat!" Nick snapped angrily. "I don't know if they're here, there, alive, or…dead. No, of course they're alive. They can get along without me. They know what they're doing."

Those last three lines seemed to be spoken more to himself than to Phil.

"Ro can handle herself," he said quietly, but Phil saw that he was rubbing the ring with his thumb again.

"Listen," Phil said, trying to sound reasonable and not pissed. "You are the only person here, other than me, Doug, Stu, and Allan. No one else is here. I don't know if you staggered in here sometime last night or what, 'cause I don't remember anything, but—"

"I didn't 'stumble' here!" Nick shouted, clenching his hands into fists. "I was at that _goddamn_ amusement park in the South when a Tank beat the shit out of me and I lost consciousness. When I woke up, I was in that closet with _your_ stupid ass jerking off instead of opening the damn door!"

"I should have left you in there," Phil replied.

"I agree, the company was better," Nick retorted.

"All you're doing is crazying up the place," Phil complained. "I can't make any sense of what you're saying. What the fuck were you doing that some guy in a tank beat you up?"

"No, it wasn't someone _in_ a tank, it was a _Tank_," Nick explained, as if that made perfect sense.

Phil stared at him.

"A big ass zombie?" Nick said.

Phil continued to stare at him.

"Has no lower jaw, looks like a pink version of the Incredible Hulk, chucks slabs of concrete and cars, is a real bitch to take down?" Nick continued.

"Sounds like your mom." Your mom jokes were a knee-jerk reaction of Phil's. Right now it was the only thing that made sense to him.

Nick closed his eyes for several seconds and took a deep breath.


	2. Chapter 2

The sound of grunting woke Allan. He lay on the floor for a while, just listening.

Then it sounded like something broke, and he jumped to his feet. It could have been his camera. If it was, shit was about to go _down_.

"That better not be my camera!" he cried, running pantless towards the noise.

He came upon Phil, who was currently in a headlock by some strange guy in a white suit. Allan didn't know what was going on, but an idea of how to save Phil came to him almost instantly.

"Don't worry, Phil, I got your back!" he declared, scurrying off. He immediately doubled back to the fighting pair. "Oh, and Mister Stranger, I like your suit."

"Thanks," Mister Stranger replied, smiling. He tightened his hold on Phil, who was struggling but not really doing anything more effective than flailing around randomly.

Allan quickly grabbed a half-full fire extinguisher and ran back to Phil and Mister Stranger.

"Heads up!" he warned before dousing the men in flame retardant foam.

"UGH!"

"SHIT!"

The two men quickly disengaged and flung themselves apart, covered in foam.

"_Gross_!" Mister Stranger yelled angrily, brushing at his fancy suit. "This shit'll take _forever_ to clean!"

"Thanks for the help, Allan, but god-_damn _-it, man! My hair is going to be fucked up beyond belief from this crap!" Phil complained.

"Sorry, Phil," Allan apologized, looking sheepish. "The fight looked serious. You were pretty red in the face."

"I was _not_!" Phil protested, still red in the face. "I was about to win, too, until you came in and—"

"Oh _what_ever," Mister Stranger scoffed, rolling his eyes. "A couple more seconds and you would've been in dreamland."

"No, I was fighting back!" Phil insisted.

"Uh, you mean that weak flailing? You call that _fighting_?" Nick asked.

"I was luring you into a false sense of victory," Phil explained. "To throw you off. _Then_, I was gonna—"

"Yeah, ok, pal."

"_What is going on_?" Stu demanded, and everyone jumped. He pointed at Mister Stranger. "Who the hell are _you_?"

"Whoa, hold on," Allan interrupted suddenly, looking back forth from Phil and Mister Stranger. "Phil, is that your _brother_? When'd he get here?"

"Allan, what—I don't _have_ a brother!" Phil shouted. "This clown just turned up in a closet this morning. A _locked_ closet, too. I don't know who the fuck he is, but I am _not_ related to him."

"God for_bid_," Mister Stranger added, looking repulsed. "No way I'd want to be related to someone who can't fight."

"Shut it."

"You shut it."

"Ass."

"Asshole."

"ASSHAT."

"ASSCLOWN!"

"Ok, this isn't helping, guys," Stu interjected, holding his hands up for silence.

"ASSDONKEY!" Allan shouted, late.

The other three stared at him, and then the attention returned to Stu.

"Does anyone remember what happened after we took those shots on the roof last night?" he asked.

"Umm…I think we had dinner," Phil guessed.

"Ok. And then?"

"Uh…I don't remember."

"Neither do I. Allan?"

"…no, nothing."

"Oh perfect, a group of amnesiacs," Mister Stranger sighed. "_Just_ the people to have the explanation I need."

"Shut up, we don't have amnesia! Well, we do," Phil faltered, "but it wasn't a pre-existing condition."

"A night of drinking'll do that to you, numb nuts."

"The amount of alcohol I would need to drink in order to not remember anything would put me in the hospital," Phil replied.

Mister Stranger pointed at something on Phil's wrist. "What were you saying, slick?"

Phil looked at his wrist and stared at the bracelet that was on it. "Holy _shit_, I was in the _hospital_ last night!"

"Way to go, Nancy Drew, the mystery is solved!" Mister Stranger congratulated.

"No, it's not, _Memento_," Allan snapped.

"What, is that a crack about my suit?" Mister Stranger demanded.

"All right, everybody, just calm down and think. Phil, Allan, and I can't remember anything from last night since dinner. There is a stranger in our hotel room this morning. I'm thinking _he_ had something to do with our memory loss," Stu theorized. "And—holy shit, my _tooth_ is gone!"

"He must have been a tooth thief, too!" Allan cried as he stepped forward and stabbed a finger at Mister Stranger.

"You fruitcakes are unbelievable," Mister Stranger sighed, putting his face in his hand and shaking his head.

"Quiet, tooth poacher!" Allan warned.

"What the _hell_ am I going to do with a _tooth_, fatso?" Mister Stranger asked, angrily. "Put it under my pillow?"

"I bet that's exactly what you did," Allan countered, deadly serious. "You probably stole a whole bunch of teeth and saved up for that suit. How can you live with yourself, sir?"

Mister Stranger just frowned up at him, his mouth slightly open, looking as if he was puzzling something out. Phil had the exact same look.

"Come on, Phil, show us where you found him, I bet we'll find Stu's tooth there," Allan said.

Mister Stranger gave Phil a look that said "Are you kidding me with this?" Phil shrugged back and climbed to his feet.

"It was this closet over here," Phil said, leading the way.

"You know I won't be able to _do_ anything with it once I have it, right?" Stu muttered to Phil.

"Yeah, but it'll shut Allan up," Phil muttered back.

The three opened the door of the closet and looked inside.

It was completely bare. No teeth to be found.

They looked at each other for a moment, and then Allan broke the silence.

"Shit, guys, he probably still has it on him!" he decided. "I'll go get it."

Stu and Phil watched him walk back around the corner to Mister Stranger. Allan said something, and then they heard Mister Stranger clearly say, "Get your _goddamn_ hands off me before I break your _goddamn_ nose!"

Apparently Allan didn't let go, since the two friends heard a loud yelp. A few seconds later, Allan came back around the corner, blood dripping from his nose.

"Ok, guys, he's tough," Allan announced, putting his hands on his hips. "He punched me in the face. The Tooth Fairy must be offering some pretty serious dough for your tooth, Stu."

"Or maybe he doesn't have it?" Phil suggested.

"I've had just about enough of this jackassery, so I'm outta here!" Mister Stranger declared, striding angrily to the front door.

Phil grabbed his arm. "Whoa, I don't think so, buddy. You're staying with us until we figure out what happened last night."

"At the rate that's going, it'll probably be about ten _years_ before you guys remember anything."

"You're still staying," Phil insisted, glaring at him.

Mister Stranger glared back and clenched one hand into a fist. Phil tensed and made a fist as well, ready for a fight.

Something cried.

All four men froze.

Something cried again, louder than before. They all exchanged a confused look, and then Stu and Allan headed off in the direction the cry had come from. Phil didn't release Nick.

"What the fuck do you think that is?" Nick whispered.

"I don't know," Phil whispered back, watching Allan and Stu open the door of another closet. "Sounded like a—"

"Jesus, is that a _baby_?" Stu cried, gaping at something.

Allan bent down and picked up the seat it was in. "What's a baby doing here? You think someone lost it?"

"What was it doing in a _closet_?" Stu asked.

"Napping?"

"Whose baby is that?" Phil asked, coming over to the other two and leading Nick along behind him.

"I have no clue," Stu replied.

"Jesus, what did you guys _do_ last night?" Nick said. He sounded a little awed.


	3. Chapter 3

Waking up had been part of Stu's plan, although waking up face down on the floor with a stiff neck hadn't.

Waking up on the floor and discovering that there was a stranger in the room also had not been part of plan.

Waking up on the floor to find a stranger in the room _and_ discovering one of your teeth was missing/gone/bye bye was absolutely not part of the plan at all and should never be part of anyone's plan ever.

But the baby was the worst and latest discovery of that joyous and eventful morning. Stu didn't think there were enough tears available to express just how _happy_ he was to be a part of this magical Vegas trip.

"Ok, what…what the _hell_ are we going to do with the baby?" he asked.

They had set it on a table and were sitting around it in chairs, staring at the baby like it was a ticking bomb. It squinted back at them and wiggled a little.

"I think we should feed it," Allan suggested.

"That's a good idea," the stranger agreed. "And since you have tits, _you_ can be the one to feed him!"

"I find that very offending," Allan said gravely, looking directly at the stranger.

"Hold on, I'll go call 911 and tell them I hurt your feelings," the stranger replied, getting up from the couch. "Maybe they'll know what happened to tall, tan, and wimpy over here."

"I cannot wait for something bad to happen to you," Phil said, glaring at him.

"Feeling's mutual, pal."

"_**GUYS**__! _There is a _baby_ on the _table_! _What_ are we _going_ to _do_ about it?" Stu hollered.

"Maybe it's his baby," Phil suggested, nodding towards the stranger.

"Whoa, no. _Hell_. NO," the stranger said immediately, holding up his hands. "Nicolas does not have _any_ babies. _Anywhere_."

"Little defensive there, guy," Phil noted, smirking. "Sure you haven't squirted out a tyke or two somewhere? I mean, you know the saying. What happens in Vegas…"

"That saying'll hold up real well when I kill you and no one finds the body."

"Whoa, guys, you hear that? He's threatening me."

"I don't care. We need to decide what we're going to do with this baby," Stu insisted. "This isn't a minor decision like, 'Oh, what tie will I wear today?' This is _serious _stuff. So think, guys."

"You could cook it," Nick offered. "I bet baby's tasty."

"That's not constructive," Stu snapped.

"You are the worst person I've known aside from Darth Vader, and he had valid reasons for turning to the dark side," Allen spoke up.

Phil was frowning in an effort to keep from smiling at the look on Nick's face. The struggle took most of his concentration, so he was unable to think of what to do about the baby.

After several lip movements that failed to form a response, Nick sat back down on the couch next to Phil and stared at Allan as if he couldn't conceive that such a person could exist.

"We need to find its parent," Stu decided. "Or parents."

"And it's _not_ me," Nick interrupted.

"Dude, we know that. See, in order to have a baby, someone has to _want_ to have sex with you," Phil explained, grinning. "And buddy, the way _you_ look—"

Whatever Phil was about to say next got cut off by a slap across the face from Nick. Phil's jaw dropped in surprise, and then he wrapped his hands around Nick's throat and started shaking him. Nick started clawing at Phil's eyes before he realized that was a chick move and instead yanked his hair and punched whatever he could reach, both of them yelling death threats the entire time.

"Kick his ass, Phil!" Allan cheered.

Stu jumped to his feet, glaring furiously at Phil and Nick.

"That's _it_!" he shouted at the top of his lungs, startling Nick and Phil out of their brawl. "Both of you in the corner _now_!"

"The corner?" Phil repeated, confused. "What are you—"

"Go stand in the corner _right now_. You're on _time out_. You can't behave and offer reasonable ideas like the rest of us, so Allan and I have to be the mature ones and figure out what to do about the baby."

Allan shook his head disapprovingly.

Phil pointed at Nick. "But he hit me _first_!"

"Phil, you provoked him. We all heard," Stu said. "Now I'm putting _both_ of you on time out, so go to the far corner and _stay_ there until I say you can rejoin us."

"You're putting me on time out," Nick scoffed. "You gotta be kidding me. The last time I was on time out was in kindergarten."

"Well, you behave like you're still there," Stu replied, then pointed to the far corner. "Now _go_."

After a few tense seconds, Nick and Phil both grudgingly got up and sulkily slunk over to the corner, muttering under their breath and casting glares at Stu.

"When Phil's off time out, he'll be my role model again," Allan declared.

Stu stared at Allan and wondered if this had been a good decision.

"This is _your_ fault," Phil muttered, resting his chin on his knees and wrapping his arms around his legs.

"_My_ fault?" Nick asked incredulously. He was also in the same position as Phil. "You're the one who couldn't man up and take a lousy slap. Besides, you had it comin'. I bet you got a lot worse with that mouth of yours."

"_You're_ one to talk!" Phil snapped. "You talk shit all the time! Almost from the moment I met you you've been bitching nonstop about everything and being rude as hell!"

"There's a lot to complain about!"

"Just keep it to yourself. No one wants to hear what you have to say."

"_I_ do."

"No one else does, and we outvote you."

"Not in my book," Nick muttered, but he fell silent.

They glared in opposite directions, waiting for Stu and Allan to make up their minds about the baby.

"How did we even get a _baby_ up here?" Phil wondered aloud several minutes later. "I mean…was it like a purse snatching but with a baby? Or did we like…I don't know, _smuggle_ it?"

"And what exactly did you guys think you were going to _do_ with a baby once you got it here?" Nick added. "Raise it in a Vegas hotel room? Ransom it without knowing who its parents are?"

"I don't know," Phil sighed, putting his head on his knees. "I hope it's not the baby of a mobster or something."

"_That_ would be a ransom-worthy baby," Nick pointed out.

"Yeah, but we'd be totally fucked once we got the money."

"True. But you'd get good money."

"Ok, guys, time out is over," Stu announced, walking up to them with Allan beside him.

"Phil, you were whack," Allan said. "But it's ok, I know you didn't mean it. We're cool now."

"Terrific," Phil muttered, getting to his feet.

"You and I?" Allan continued, pointing at Nick and then himself. "We are not cool. We will _never_ be cool."

"That is _o_-kay with me," Nick declared, also getting up.

"_Allan_," Stu interrupted, "has a little carrier…thing that he can use to cart the baby around so it's not all alone in the room."

"Wait, are we going out?" Phil asked.

"Yyyes. See, we just realized—"

"Doug's gone," Allan said.

"_What_?" Phil shouted.

"He's not here," Stu sighed, rubbing the space in his teeth. "He _might_ be, but we're pretty sure he's not. Neither of us saw him when we got up."

"Well we can't just make assumptions, let's double check this place!" Phil insisted.

"That sounds _great_," Nick said, "but I have to piss, so you guys have fun. I'll, uh, check the bathroom, don't you worry."

"_Thanks_," Phil sneered, "you're such a big help."

"I know."

"Yeah, _thanks_," Allan said, off by a few seconds.

"It's ok, buddy, you'll catch up one day," Nick assured him, patting him on the shoulder. Allan swung wildly at Nick's hand and missed.

Nick backed away and headed quickly for the bathroom as the other three spread out and searched the rest of the room for Doug. Nick opened the bathroom door and then shut it behind him. He calmly walked over to the toilet and unzipped his pants before peeing, sighing in relief. He heard Stu, Phil, and that weird guy saying there was no sign of Doug anywhere. It sounded like they were moving back towards the outside of the bathroom. Nick zipped up his pants and flushed the toilet before turning to his right to wash his hands.

That was when he saw the tiger.


	4. Chapter 4

Nick didn't think of himself as a particularly brave man, but he was good at keeping his head in bad situations. It was a valuable skill that had saved his hide in many of his cons. It had also probably kept him alive during the many battles against the infected.

Well, up until the Tank flattened him.

But that had been pure bad luck. It could have happened to any of the team.

Regaining consciousness in a closet of a hotel room in Vegas when he had _just_ been in a Southern amusement park was pure goddamn _bullshit_, and of _course_ it happened to _him_.

But right now, none of that mattered. Right now, only two things were going through his mind.

_There was a tiger in the bathroom._

_It was looking at him._

_There was a tiger in the bathroom and it was looking at him._

It growled quietly and Nick just started nodding his head involuntarily, backing up. He opened the door and shut it behind him. Thank God he had already peed.

"No sign of Doug anywhere," he heard the whiny-looking guy (Stu?) say.

The asshole, Phil, had looked over at Nick as he stood, speechless, outside the bathroom door.

"Oh Christ, what?" Phil asked, looking a little worried as he walked over to him. "It must be bad, you look like you're about to cry. Is there a dead hooker in there or something?"

Nick could barely get the word past his lips. "Tiger."

"You _shitting_ me, a dead tiger!" Phil exclaimed, opening the door.

The tiger, now on its feet, roared at him.

"_**OH JESUS CHRIST IT'S STILL ALIVE!**_" Phil slammed the door shut. "_You said it was __**DEAD**__!_"

"_All I said was '__**Tiger**__'!_" Nick yelled back, still freaked out.

"_You implied it was __**DEAD**__!_"

"_I just said __**TIGER**__!_"

"Guys, calm down, what's going on?" Stu asked.

Phil ran a hand down his face and left it over his mouth.

"There's a fucking _tiger_ in the bathroom," he said through his fingers.

Allan and Stu both screwed up their faces in disbelief.

"What?" Stu laughed.

"Like a Tony the Tiger tiger?" Allan asked.

"No, like a fucking _it will kill you_ tiger!" Phil shouted.

"Sucker means business," Nick agreed solemnly. "It is _not_ happy. I mean, I can't blame him; being stuck in a bathroom by four drunk jackasses would piss me off, too."

"Ok, this is just…getting _crazier_ every minute," Phil declared, holding up his hands like he was giving up. "We need to find Doug and get the _hell_ out of here."

"Is there seriously a tiger in there?" Allan asked, putting his hand on the doorknob.

"No, don't do it, man, he'll kill you," Phil said quickly, grabbing Allan's hand to stop him from turning it.

"Wait, Phil, I think you should let Allan do it," Nick spoke up. "If the tiger eats him, he'll be so full he'll leave us alone. Or all the fat'll give it a heart attack."

Stu was looking at Nick like he couldn't believe someone could be so _mean_ 24-7.

"Do you just drink your own piss or something to be that mean all the time?" he asked.

"Guys, we're wasting time," Phil interrupted. "Let's go down to the front desk and see if they remember anything. We'll check at the pool or something after that."

"Ok," Stu agreed. "Allan, you grab the baby."

Allan nodded and went to get his carrier.

Nick stuck with Phil as the group walked out the door.

"Bro, there is a _tiger_ in the bathroom," Nick muttered to Phil. "Now, getting your hands on a _baby_ is one thing, but a goddamn _tiger_!"

"Hey, as soon as we figure it out, we'll let you know," Phil replied. "I'm as lost as you are."

The front desk wasn't much help. They didn't know where Doug was, either, and they hadn't seen him come down this morning.

The four (five, including the baby) gathered at a table by the pool to come up with a plan.

"The front desk didn't see him, but he _must_ have left," Stu insisted. "He wasn't anywhere in the hotel room."

"He probably took off for breakfast or something," Phil agreed.

Nick was watching a dark-haired woman climb out of the pool. Phil kicked him under the table.

"Uh-huh," he said, not looking away.

"Nick, if that's your real name, this is kind of important," Stu said. "Our best friend who is going to be _married_ tomorrow is missing and we have _no_ clue where he is."

"Kill the tiger," Nick replied, still watching the woman. "Check its stomach."

Stu and Phil glared at him.

"What? That's probably what happened!" he insisted.

"Guys, check it out," Allan said, catching their attention. He was moving the baby's arm to make it look like it was jerking off. "He's jackin' it."

Stu giggled and then remembered himself, quickly frowning. "Allan, come on, we have to focus on finding Doug."

"Sorry, right," Allan nodded, letting go of the baby's arm.

"Let's go get the Mercedes, maybe it'll give us some clues," Phil suggested.

Nick whipped his head around, perking up. "Mercedes?"

* * *

The guys waited for the valet to bring their car around, Stu and Allan bickering over Allan's childish manipulation of the baby.

"Come on, it's funny!" Allan insisted.

"I wouldn't want you doing that to _my_ baby," Stu replied.

"Well it's not _your_ baby," Allan sniffed. "Could be an orphan for all we know."

The valet pulled up in a car, but it wasn't the Mercedes.

It was a cop car.

"Here's your car, officers," the valet announced, smiling and holding out the keys.

The four men stood gaping open-mouthed at the car for several seconds. Then there was a mad scramble between Nick and Phil to get the keys from the valet. The poor guy was almost knocked down in the struggle.

"Let go, I'm driving!" Nick insisted, grappling with Phil for possession of the car keys.

"No way! _I'm_ driving, _I'm_ the officer!" Phil countered, managing to keep Nick at an arm's length.

"Officer _Dickhead_, maybe," Nick snapped, clawing furiously at the keys in Phil's hand.

"That's no way to speak to an officer of the law," Phil taunted, jingling the keys. "I could arrest you for that."

"Give me those goddamn keys before I break your neck!"

"Hey, I just gave you a warning, pal, speak to me like that again and—"

The passerby wondered why two plainclothes (and shady-looking) officers were locked in what appeared to be a life-or-death struggle over a set of car keys. The one in the dirty, expensive suit was even threatening to swallow the keys if the other one didn't relent. Definitely un-officer-ly behavior.

And the overweight guy making the baby mime things wasn't too normal, either.

* * *

_(I haven't seen the movie in a long time because our copy was lent out and has not been returned yet, so I may need to edit this chapter once I re-watch it, to make it match the movie better.)_


End file.
